The Crownseeker company rode on through the rest of the day. Oliver was not certain whether it was his encounter with Rolind or simple exhaustion from remaining in the saddle throughout the day, but the experience of the journey became stale quickly.
He no longer found himself scanning the ranks of Crownseekers, marveling to find himself in the midst of them. Instead, he only became increasingly aware of the sweat staining the inside of his shirt and his muscles cramping into knots inside him.
Oliver kept coming back to his conversation with Rolind. Now, he could not go more than a few minutes without a jolt of fear snaking through his body. Again and again, he imagined himself, or Aldric, or Kelley, lying in a pool of blood.
‘Rolind didn’t know what he was talking about,’ Oliver told himself for the hundredth time, banishing the image from his brain. ‘He’s a coward, that’s all. Nothing is going to happen.’